“I’m going to explode upon the world in a huge way,” she told me. “I’ve already decided.” We were free spirited young writers when my friend made this declaration, two zealous dreamers convinced of our destinies. We crossed paths the other day as grown-ups, both burdened by adult responsibilities. She ranted about her soul-sucking job and the stagnant economy. I segued and asked, “What are you writing these days?” She shook her head and for a moment her eyes looked haunted. “Mostly emails,” she said.

As children we create an image about what our lives will be. We envision who we will become and the amazing life we’ll lead; whether space explorer or ninja, scientist or rock star, the aspirations emerge from our deepest selves. The picture is clear in our fearless imagination. The colorful image carries us into young adulthood, but life has a way of erasing that picture. It’s dangerous to be a dreamer because so many other people disapprove. Employers equate dreaming with laziness. They see conformity as dedication and diligence. To make a living and to fit in, we let the image fade.

Then we get older. We settle into a job and earn more worries. Car maintenance is expensive. The house needs new rugs. The job leaves us tired, too spent to pursue the big picture dream. We learn to cope and get by and the non-dreaming lifestyle takes root. At some point we give up the image of what we wanted to be altogether. The magical picture is erased. Few of us reach our potential. Few of us become anything close to what we were capable of. Life becomes misery. As Jonathan Mead writes in Reclaim Your Dreams, “We all wonder at some depressing point in our lives why we’re not happy.” What a tragedy.

I would like to tell you that I’ve always stayed true to my dream, always chased the mental picture I created as a child. The truth is that I lost sight of it a time or two. The road to becoming a writer has some spooky places, no doubt, and I’ve been splattered on the asphalt. Sometimes it was my own bad decision making. Other times it was simply easier to be something less than a dreamer. Several years ago I abandoned writing completely. I burned all of my manuscripts and deleted every file from my computer. The dark hiatus was costly. Writing requires consistent effort. I lost momentum in my non-dreaming years. More important, I lost the part of me that I most enjoy spending time with, the unabashed fearless dreamer.

I found a faded image of my dream, fortunately; and I found ways of coloring it until the picture came back into focus. Teaching people how to do the same is not my forte. It takes a lot of insight into the human condition to show other people the road back to their dreams and kickstart their journey. There’s some resources available, but my new favorite is, “Reclaim Your Dreams.“ This is not a cookie cutter approach, but a declaration of LIFE.

To me, it’s a matter of life and death. I will pursue my dream with such determination that it appears reckless because to not do so is to die. It takes a child’s courage to live this way. Sometimes the hardest step is waking up that bright eyed kid. If you’re there already, I hope to meet you on the journey. If you’re like my friend, please wake up and find your way.